


In Full Bloom

by hongsoos



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, jisoo is minor and i cant ever write any svt fanfic without him in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9263576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongsoos/pseuds/hongsoos
Summary: A seed plants itself in his heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Today, I felt the sudden need to write gyuhao, so here it is!

A seed plants itself in his heart.

It grows its roots to secure its place there, intertwining with the veins of the beating organ. With every miniscule growth, it sends an inexplicable kind of pain to his heart, makes it clench and beat louder, telling him to act, relieve some pain. He doesn’t though, the brain controls, not the heart, so he bears with the growing heart pains and buries himself further in soft red sheets that smell of a weird mix of cooking oil and laundry detergent.

His eyes flutter open to unfamiliar warmth that encapsulates him, blankets having done none as much justice as now. Nothing is front of him, but he feels a slight movement against his body. He glances down and finds tan, thick arms loosely wrapped around his body. They are all too familiar, those arms and that strong scent of cooking oil, that he doesn’t have to turn around to know who is snuggled up against him.

He wants to stay in the position, it’s more than comfortable. It’s a feeling he can’t explain in words, but the closest thing that can come to it is warmth. He’s drowsy and warm, and would like to drift away into sweetest dreams, but warmth only implies the sun to flowers. His heart feels strangled as the sprout becomes a long stem, tiny, healthy leaves protruding from it.

“Get off,” he groans, his thinner hands on the tan ones. He peels off one hand with ease, and turns his body around to kick the other off his bed. He’s always in awe how a human being could look so handsome every second of the twenty four hours in a day. Even with mussed hair and a now scrunched up nose and brow, the figure lying next to him is more than beautiful.

Arms secure themselves around his body once more, but more forceful, and they drag him down into an embrace, his own face smashed onto a clothed chest. He struggles against the other, but it proves useless when they are much more built that he is.

A garbled noise comes out, much similar to a whine, “Hey, go back to sleep.” Despite the crack that hits the highest point of the whine, it’s an attractive deep throaty voice, only it's now accentuated by the morning voice that makes everything seem strangely more domestic despite them sharing a dorm with eleven others.

He resists once more, harshly whispering, “Kim Mingyu,” but is only met with a strengthening grip around him, so he gives in. He does it rather easily, never actually wishing to resist because sometimes the heart controls better than the brain. He closes his eyes, willing away the growing leaves in his heart as he slips into a deep sleep that plagues him of a closely familiar face and recurring scenes that won’t make it to reality.

♥

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he answers back, leaning back into the gentle fingers that card through his locks. The truth is, he isn’t. The tiny seed that had planted itself in his heart has sprouted and grown so far it’s become a bud. If it blooms, he thinks that the pain will be so unbearable he’ll die. He shifts his head on the other’s lap, away so he can’t make eye contact and expose himself as a liar who is in fact, not okay.

Calloused hands, likely due to hours spent strumming on guitar strings, continue to slowly stroke him despite the unconvinced noise that comes from their lips. Jisoo pauses before he states in a quietly peaceful manner, careful not to sound as if he wanted to extract information, “You’ve been looking lost and distant. The other members are worried, especially Mingyu.”

The sound of just the name causes his heart to squeeze, taking the air out of his lungs. He stills, holding his breath. The bud wishes to open, but he doesn’t allow it. Jisoo’s hand stops, but continues soon after, making him relax under him once more. He doesn’t respond, stays silent instead, and appreciates the elder’s understanding, the latter choosing to hum pretty love songs that slowly lull him to sleep, his only escape from questioning words.

♥

The dorm is eerily quiet, he doesn’t quite like being alone, enjoys company whether they talk or not, but it’s his fault really, for passing on the team movie and dinner outing they had planned, reasoning he hasn’t been feeling well. Most accept his excuse easily, knowing how easily he falls ill, and it's the only time he’s thankful for such an undesirable trait. Other raise a brow at him, unbelieving, but give him space anyway.

He’s slept his fill for the day, running to bed right away after bidding goodbyes and locking up all doors and windows. The heater is running, he can’t quite recall turning it on, but he’s glad for it. His stomach rumbles, so he pulls of his red sheets and steps onto the cold wooden floor. A shiver travels up his body, so he slips on day old socks and slippers to wear around. He grabs his phone and exits the room, heading towards the kitchen, light still lit. The living room light is still on as well, and though he may have forgotten the kitchen light, it’s habit by now for him to close the living room lights before he heads to bed. It’s a little odd, but he lets it slide.

He picks up the littered articles of clothing on the sofa and carpet as he walks through the living room, grabbing the half filled laundry basket in the corner. With nothing better to do, he fills it and decides to kill time by doing chores. He heads into the kitchen because he knows one of the members must have left something in there.

When he enters, a broad back faces him, apron looking tiny against the tall figure. Standing in a daze, laundry basket in his hands, he wonders if he’s still in a dream. He’s seen this scene more times than his fingers can count. He knows what happens next, Mingyu turns around and gives him a bright smile, the ones where his cute canines show, before kissing him on the nose and ushering him down to a seat.

It’s not a dream though. Mingyu turns around and gives him a shy smile instead, as if he was caught committing a small crime, and he tries to hide what he’s cooking behind his body, but the smell is too strong and familiar. It’s home, it’s China.

Years together allow Mingyu to easily read his facial expression, so he explains, “I was worried so I came back early,” he pauses to turn around and finish whatever he was making, “I went to take your temperature, but you were normal, so I thought maybe...recently you’ve been homesick? I’ve been learning how to make Chinese for the past few weeks.” It’s silent seconds after his words, save for a small click of the stove knob to turn off the heat and the sounds of Mingyu plating the last of the food.

Tears rolls down his face as he grips onto the laundry basket. The flower has fully bloomed, has taken over his heart. It’s a different kind of pain, not what he really expected, it’s softer and gentler, bordering even pleasant. He likes it, so he accepts the fate that has been put upon him, that little seed of his.

“I love you,” he blurts out. Sometimes, the heart controls better than the brain.

It’s comical how fast Mingyu turns to him, and he wants to laugh at the sight, but the weight of his words stop him, make him stand quietly in wait for a response. Mingyu puts the plate down on the counter, clatter resounding. The both of them don’t move. Mingyu at the counter, and himself at the kitchen entrance. Mingyu asks, “Which kind?”

“I want to kiss you.” he replies quietly, voice shaking at the end.

“Me too.” Mingyu breaths.

“Really?”

“Really.” Mingyu confirms, throwing his huge body on the smaller frame of himself, making him lose his grip on the laundry basket. Clothes fly into the air, but he pays no mind, the lips on his own hold much more significance at the moment. They fall to the floor, pull apart out of breath, then kiss again whenever the air returns to their lungs. Fingers are intertwined and their smiles press against each other’s lips. It’s not a dream.

“I love you Minghao, I love you!” Mingyu kisses over and over again. Minghao responds by returning each word, each kiss with his own, lets him know how much the flower, the love, has grown. The laundry is all over the floor, and the food will probably get cold, but they can always clean together and reheat the food after, so they let it be for now, and let each other finally love them.

 

♥

 

There’s a fully bloomed flower in Minghao’s chest. It’s a different kind of pain, not what he really expected, it’s softer and gentler, pleasant. He loves it.

He loves Mingyu.


End file.
